Sandbrook
by hugoGrant
Summary: The tale of the Hardy's mysterious past and the case of Sandbrook. M rating for language. Includes Karen White and Hardy as the only Broadchurch characters. There are many OCs.
1. Chapter 1

The house was as common as the grass. It was red brick with white windows. The windows facing the street were those of the master bedroom, a study and the dining room down stairs. The backyard was visible from the children's rooms and the steps were hidden in the middle. The kitchen and a small living room opened to the garden from the ground floor.

Kyle came down the stairs wondering how he had managed to pass such a quiet morning. Neither of his girls seemed to be awake. He came down and asked his wife about that. He pondered over whether the two had left for school early to help setting up the sports day.

Cate could not give Kyle any helpful answers as she was working on conjecture as well. Kyle checked the rooms. Both were dark, suggesting that the girls did not wake up. He checked on Annie, the younger one. There was a body on the bed, thus he called a wake up. He decided to have coffee and then check again, to make sure that the girls woke up.

Kyle headed up after hearing eerie silence: there was no bickering over the bathroom or arguing about school. He checked on his children once more. Neither had stirred. They did not even budge. He tugged Annie's blanket off slightly and revealed a ghastly sight. There was a pool of blood on the mattress and a thin red slit on the throat. Her chest was not stirring. "Cate!" He called out, pinching himself out of this nightmare. He stumbled into Jane's room to find the same sight.

Why did the killer not kill all four? What was the plan? Was this even real? Cate rushed up and saw the sights. Kyle was in a state of denial. It was a dream, a call to the police would make it evident. Thus he called the police. A dispatch was to arrive in two minutes; the case warranted this much care. The parents were told not to leave the scene and not to enter either room. They waited downstairs, Kyle put off his hot coffee.

"What now?" Came a detached voice, barely audible over silence. Cate had finished sobbing and slunk down the stairs. She was still in tears and barely able to stand. Kyle led her to the couch and offered his shoulder, joining in soon after.

DI Alec Hardy wondered why such a sleepy town had the need for a DI. Detective Inspectors had one purpose: to solve complex cases. There were no complex cases in Sandbrook. The town was literally too sleepy for a murder. Anybody out after seven would be a criminal. Yet, this was the department where he met his wife, Detective Sergeant Alice (now) Hardy. The useless team had one more useless member: DS Jamie Cripps. Cripps was a local and that was the only reason he had his job. They needed a local who would recognize the people and be a good face for them to see.

This morning, unfortunately, altered the comfortable sleepiness of Hardy's office. He received the call a few minutes after Kyle contacted the authorities. There was a reported murder, finally.

The dispatch then called for a crime scene team. Hardy was left with the task of dealing with the annoying human element: the Mortimer survivors. It was not that people were annoying, but that talking to a sad person while he felt a strong sense of purpose was annoying. Still, it was a part of his job.

The couple were outside their house, waiting for him. "Mister and Misses Mortimer?" He asked, inwardly sighing – random tautologies like these were the only good way to begin a conversation so awkward and difficult.

They nodded in response.

"I am terribly sorry that you have to see me." Tautology two. "There are few details concerning the crime and we need to thoroughly search your house." This marked the uncomfortable shift the detective had had to make – from the hard facts to the harder demands. "Seeing as it is the scene of the crimes, we will have to ask you to vacate. A residence at a local hotel will be provided."

"Can we pack?" The husband quietly asked.

"Only from your room and everything will be searched first, I'm afraid."

"Is this the best way?"

"Yes." The husband looked dismayed and the wife was clearly not a part of the conversation, lost somewhere in memory, travelling back in time. "For the sake of your daughters, for the sake of resolution and for the sake of your closure, your utmost cooperation is recommended." This was a tautology to him, but none of the witnesses or victims believed him. The husband quietly nodded, but Hardy knew that in the required week, that nod would not last. "I will do everything in my power to find the killer and I will not rest until I see justice served." Hardy swore.

"Thank you." The husband turned to his wife and with a kiss said: "We'll start packing."

With the most difficult part of the day over, Hardy followed the civilians into their house. The team had begun to swab every square inch of the rooms, cordoning most of the upper floor. Men coated in white with only transparent plastic masks revealing human faces combed the region, quietly conversing and placing evidence in correctly sized bags.

Hardy stopped to speak with them quietly, hoping that the couple did not hear what they had to say. "Well?" He asked.

"There is evidence of a break in and the murder weapon was a blade of some sort."

"Time of death?"

"Around 1pm."

"Anything else?"

"The break in device was a crude crowbar and will be chipped in a particular manner and the blade will have evidence of this as well."

"You have suspects?"

"Well, 95% of murders are committed by somebody fairly close."

"So one of them?"

"Maybe, the killing was crude enough and the break in could be just to fool us."

"We'll have to see."

"Yes, I would quite like to search the entire premises."

"You will be able to."

"Great." With that Hardy left. He had one more task: setting up the true list of suspects. The board he used operated under one rule: guilty until proven innocent. Every face on the board had to convince him beyond all conceivable doubt that they did not belong on that board.

To start the board he did two things: he placed everybody who was near enough the girls to know them on the board. Then he began to look for other evidence. CCTV, the system of cameras dotting the British Isles for little reason, would help him find suspects.

Quickly the board filled: the father, Kyle Mortimer; the mother, Cate Mortimer; the bartender, Jack Daniels; the newsagent owner, Frank Simpson; the reverend, Harvey Hayes; the carpenter, Jim Mason and the local car dealer, Robert Cripps.

He recognized, unfortunately, all the suspects. He had interacted with them in some noncommittal way in the past. It was the greatest perk and the biggest danger of working in a familiar district. Hardy wondered how he did not recognize the victims. His daughter was the age of Annie, the younger nine year old.

"You're going to ask Jenna about her, aren't you?" Alice asked.

"I must work through every angle." Detective Inspector Hardy looked up and grinned cheekily at Detective Sergeant Hardy.

"Can I interview her?"

"I think Cripps should."

"Policy crap, right?"

"Yes." Alice Hardy sighed at her husband's annoying pedantic predictability.

"Whatever, boss."

"Thank you, Sergeant."

Hardy sighed, rewinding the tapes and wondering how exactly he would arrange to speak to every one of the seven suspects.

The parents were the easiest to contact but the hardest to talk to. The bartender would probably be busy. The carpenter could be anywhere in the region servicing homes. The reverend would be difficult to talk to. The car dealer was the brother of Sergeant Jamie Cripps – who would be interviewing his daughter.

Hardy immediately decided to save the parent's for last, hoping that some evidence would clear their names. The car dealer – Rob Cripps – could also be saved on similar grounds. That left a lack of good options. He assigned himself the reverend, giving his wife the bartender and Jamie the carpenter.

Thus the detectives got their jobs assigned. Hardy announced everything as eloquently as he could: there was a small division the Superintendent allocated to the murder investigation and none of the members would be allowed to give anything to the media. There would be an official statement to the media at six the upcoming evening.

With that the detectives went their separate ways. Alice had, as she came to rely on, the easiest task: interviewing the bartender.

Jack Daniels' story was quite simple on the surface: he ran a local volunteering set up which helped local events, such as the school's sports day, and he owned the bar. There was nothing else in the files the department could compile. Yet the board said he was guilty and he would have to fight for his innocence.

The bar was closed. It was a normal building – the stone sided house with small indented windows. Fake ivy covered the wooden sign reading "Home Brand" – the tender's acknowledgement of his name. There was a board outside with "CLOSED" drawn in a red and white mimicry of a hairdresser's sign. Alice sighed, her easy task turning a small amount more difficult. The amount was, fortunately, infinitesimal: the back of the board suggested that Jack was attending sports day.

Alice had wished she could have gone to sports day but much to Jenna's dismay, she could not come. Now, ironically, she would be there on business. A chat with the other mums and teachers would not hurt either.

Alice pulled up, thanking her profession for the unmarked vehicle it let her use. She parked and exited, noting that the festivities of the day had begun a few minutes ago and now they were in the midst of a seemingly entertaining egg and spoon race. She scanned the area for the bartender for future reference. She met Jenna's class – the children, the parents and the teacher. Their French teacher – Susan Werner - was running the events, making sure that the teams were ready and motivating the friendly competition.

Alice began to talk to the bored or busy housewives who spared time for this event. Most of the fathers were away at their jobs in nearing Newcastle or at some other work. Few parents divided their time between siblings. They all had a ton of gossip. Alice was generally occupied by her work and did not have the time for the other's teatime chatter. Instead, she got these hyper-concentrated bombardments of discussion.

There was not much new at all – everybody's lives were merrily, listlessly chugging along in time. The French teacher got a new car that very morning. Mr. Mason was making record amounts – his wife attested. The newsagent's was doing quite well since they put a board up on the highway which bypassed the town, Mrs. Simpson claimed.

Jenna, having come fourth in egg and spoon race, was thrilled to find her mother. However, after a brief hug and a quick conversation, Alice had to get back to work. The bartender had disappeared.

Alice turned in a slow circle, looking out for Mr. Daniels. She waited before asking around quickly. She walked over to the stall he was manning – a stall funding his volunteering scheme. The stall sold water, fruit juices and a few small salads – all healthy, he advertised. He was not there. The small sign indicated that he was off to restock. Alice sighed. She would have to wait and Alec would not be happy. She texted him on her progress.

"Just wait. Be quick." She got as a reply. She would have to wait.

Jamie had to track down the carpenter. The man – Jim Mason – would be hard to find because he could be anywhere on business. A quick search through a local phonebook gave Mason's number. Jamie sighed, calling it, having to terrify a potentially innocent person. "Hello?" Jamie said, believing that there was a human on the other end.

"Hello. May I know who's speaking?"

"Is this Mr. Jim Mason I am addressing?"

"Yes. How may I be of help?"

"Can you please come into the police office?"

"Can you give me an hour?" The voice on the other end, as experience and common sense dictated, was shaken and nervous and above all, scared to dead. "What seems to be the matter?"

"We will discuss it when you get here. You can take the hour, but if you're not here we'll have to find you." This was not national policy, but the leniency of a small town's sinecure police department.

"Thank you. I hope it's not trouble."

"It may not be. See you in an hour."

"See you sir." Jim quickly read the number, comparing it to the local office's number and unfortunately finding a match.

Jamie was relieved. The conversation was not bad and there was no indication that the man was guilty or capable of murder.

Hardy decided to physically visit the Reverend. The church was a small affair in the middle of the town, a very short walk from the office. It marked the end of the high street after which the town faded into houses and then ceased in a mile with the first few fields. The cemetery's size reflected that of the town: it was tiny. Some of the yard was family owned since the town's Victorian conception. The reverend was, in fact, the newest part of the church.

The reverend was fifty. He was greying and wrinkled and stooped within his erudite air. The dark priestly robe added to this effect giving him the air that spoke priest even to an alien. "Reverend?" Hardy called to the idle man.

"Yes, how may I help you?" Hayes said, looking up from his work.

"I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions."

"What do they concern?" The air of this parishioner suggested that he did not need the priest in a priestly way.

"A case I have the misfortune of having to work on."

"Am I a suspect?" The priest could not suspect how.

"Unfortunately."

"I see."

"Because of this, I must ask you a few questions and record your responses."

The reverend shuffled uncomfortably. "I will see."

"I'm afraid now would be the best time."

"Alright, then." The reverend sighed, wondering how he was a suspect.

Hardy took the recorder out. "Speaking to reverend Harvey Hayes, initially alibi and checking, one pm on Friday February the sixth." He turned to the reverend. "Reverend, I would like to start by asking where you were on the last night."

Hayes shrugged. "I was here, preparing a short sermons. This is the very one I'm still working on."

"A sermons for what occasion?"

"This Sunday."

"I see. Did you do anything after that?"

"No. I merely went to sleep."

"Unfortunately, I know you are lying as we have you walking around outside on CCTV." This was unsettling – Hardy did not like liars and he already had to deal with one. He did not believe in omens, but if he had, early liars would be quite ominous.

"I went out to walk to get inspired."

"To get inspired?"

"Yes. The night air refreshes my mind."

"Despite the chill?"

"Yes, despite the chill."

"Is there anybody who can verify this?"

The reverend shuffled. "Frank Simpson – the newsagent saw me."

"I see."

"Is that all?"

"So far. I will ask further questions if any of my doubts are unsatisfied."

"I see."

"Thank you for your cooperation."

"My pleasure to help. Please tell me if there are any more ways I can help."

"I will be sure to. Thank you." Hardy turned to the recorder. "End interview. One ten pm." Hardy thanked the priest once more before leaving the church.

Buffeted by the cold air, Hardy wondered how the reverend was capable of any thought in the numbing wind. He did manage to ponder the case a little more, seeing that the store owner climbed on his list. He would get his interview the next day.

Jamie was, as Hardy expected, still waiting for Mason to turn up. Jamie was that type of slacker. Hardy sighed and sat in his office, preparing to add the new data to his computer and then pin the newfound connection onto the main board.

Hardy's phone buzzed. There was a message from the forensics team. Out of habit, Hardy opened it, expecting a complete lack of interesting news. "Knife found. Was in the house."


	2. Chapter 2

The bartender, once Alice finally found him, was not too bad. Taking him away from the commotion of the school event, Alice sat him down on a park bench. She began the interview with the rigid, Hardy-enforced "speaking to Jack Daniels, initial interview, Friday February sixth, one twenty pm." She sighed, tempted to add a "happy, Hardy?" "So, Mr. Daniels, where were you last night?" She asked.

"I was out buying drinks."

"For the bar?"

"Yes. We had run out of a few ale brands."

"I see. Is there any way we may verify that?"

"I have receipts."

"I see. May I see them please?"

"We'll have to go to the bar."

"Would you mind?"

"No, it's quite alright."

"We'll have to take my car." Alice added a curt "end interview, one twenty five." She guided Jack to her car. Within, driving the short distance down the nearly empty high street, Alice looked on the suspect. He was young and it was surprising that he managed to own the bar. He looked quite handsome to Alice who glanced over his features appreciatively before reminding herself of her wedding. To Hardy.

They arrived and Daniels produced the bills quite quickly – they were recent and neatly filed. Alice took photos of the bills to store as proof. Alec would probably force her to call the stupid store that sold the ale.

She sighed and dropped Jack off, thanking him for his cooperation and thanking the Lord for the rare textbook quality operation.

She got back to work where she met Jamie, 'slacking off' as Hardy would later complain. She knocked on Hardy's office, hoping her husband would not find some pedantic fault with her perfect little chat with the bartender.

"Alec!" She said with enthusiasm so false and thick that it could be felt.

"What's up?" He said, sounding completely disinterested.

"The bartender's clean."

"How so?"

"He has an alibi – he was out shopping."

"Was the store even open?" The tone as too patronizing for Alice to hide her umbrage.

"I will call them."

"Then he's nearly clean."

"Fine." She turned to leave. "He will be soon though."

"Don't be too sure."

"Don't be too doubtful." Alice disliked this about him.

"They found the knife."

"What?" Did Jamie even know? Was he condescending enough with the case to consider her unimportant enough to be informed? Was it some possessive instinct?

"It was in the house."

"So one of them did it?"

"Most likely. We'll have to talk to them."

"When?"

"I'll call tomorrow, after the press release."

"You writing that?"

"Yes."

"What should I do?"

"Call the shop."

"Fine." Alice went to do as she was told. She rang the number.

"Hello?" She heard.

"Hi, I was wondering if I could ask you about one of your customers."

"We are not at liberty to divulge the details of our clientele, I am afraid."

"This is the police."

"Will you be able to come over? You may get more concrete evidence this way."

"I'll be there soon."

"See you." The line died. Alice sighed. She now would have to drive to this liquor store – a twenty minute drive – and get the evidence. It did make sense from the store's perspective, but it inconvenienced Alice greatly. Hardy would have to write the release. Jamie had to talk to the Mason guy. Alice was on her own.

She drove accompanied by the radio, wishing a human being would appear in the seat next to hers. She arrived soon after, taking in the small white walled and red roofed box the store formed, penetrating into the countryside, an interloper of civilization.

She entered. "I'm the officer who called." She began to the old, thin lady at the counter.

"Some ID, please."

Alice flashed her badge, aggravated by the lady's insecurities. "Now, the customer."

"Fine. Who is it you would like me to inform you about?"

"Jack Daniels."

"Yes." The lady pulled out a receipt. "Is this all you would like to see?"

Alice flashed a photo. "Thank you very much."

"It's alright. I am sorry for any inconvenience." That annoyed Alice – of all things an annoying person could do, apology was the most annoying.

"It's quite alright." Alice texted an "I was right" to Alec before she began her drive back.

A "good" came through as she pulled out onto the highway.

Jamie interviewed Jim Mason. They used a cold interrogation room for the first time in many years. Jamie recorded the conversation formally beginning with a "speaking to Jim Mason, initial conversation, Friday February the sixth at quarter to two." He sighed, wondering why he had to observe this formality. "So, Mr. Mason, where were you the night before?"

Mr. Mason thought for a while – a while longer than an innocent man should take. "I was out on a call."

"Near midnight?"

"Yes. There was an emergency and they thought I could help."

"They?"

"It was late. I don't remember who."

"I see. Do you have a record of the call or any transaction?"

"Yes." Jim pulled out his phone and flipped through the call history. An unidentified number came up. He showed it to Jamie.

"I see." Jamie noted the time and duration of the call. "What did they need fixing?"

"It had to do with their…" Mason stopped to think. "It was that one of their radiators was leaking."

"Unfortunately, Mr. Mason, we do not have any evidence of you using your van."

"Yes." Mason paused again. "I walked to the place – it was nearby but I can't remember exactly where."

"Nearby?"

"Yes, it was one of the businesses."

"I see."

"Sorry, but what's all this regarding?"

"We have a suspicion, but I am not at liberty to tell." Jim looked a little shaken, almost guilty.

"Sorry about the lack of detail." It hurt to hear that. It was sad because there were no guarantees – Jim could be lying prolifically or he could be telling the truth and be suffering from a terrible memory. Jamie would never quite know.

"It's quite alright, tell us if you remember anything."

"Yes."

"Thank you." With that, Jamie let Jim out and gave a sordid report to Hardy.

Hardy had prepared the press release and Alice came in time to set up the hall. They used the police department's hall for the first time.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen." Hardy began to the small audience of jaded reporters and local police fanatics that milled about. "Today, we have the misfortune of announcing the murder of Annie and Jane Mortimer. They were murdered in a break in. There is no evidence of anything being stolen from the house thus we are under the assumption that we are faced with a planned event." As told to by Alec, Alice and Jamie scanned the room for particularly guilty faces. "We are collecting evidence and interviewing suspects as much as we can. We hope we will find the criminal soon and we hope that you, the media, will respect the privacy of the Mortimer's and not reduce the efficacy of any part of the investigation. We will keep you as up to date as possible." There was a paused as the reporters glared at Hardy for his obvious stance. "Finally, I would like anybody who thinks they know something to come forward with any information they can give."

Hardy crisply descended. He sighed, knowing that the day would be over soon if he wanted a ride home with Alice. There was nothing too pressing with the case – he promised himself not to bother the Mortimer family the day of their children's deaths.

Hardy did decide, however, to check on one detail: which of the parents was a more likely suspect. He checked the footage. Mrs. Mortimer was the only person to leave the house during the night and she did take her time. This pointed to her – she must have stepped out to place the red herring of the break in.

Hardy sighed, knowing that he would have to take Alice along with him for this interview – it was too delicate otherwise. Alice would be unhappy. He walked out of the office, where he met Jamie. "Cripps." He called.

"DI?"

"Can you work tomorrow?"

"I would prefer not to."

"We are just taking an hour or so to interview Cate Mortimer, so I was wondering if you could talk to Frank Simpson.

"Fine Hardy." Jamie really preferred the other Hardy – more than merely professionally.

"Good. Report back to me and then you can call it a day."

"Alright. You and Alice are going to interview Cate?"

"Yes. It will be quite delicate."

"Please tell me how that goes."

"I will be sure to."

The Hardy couple returned home. Jenna was picked up from a friend's house on the way. The parents would have to reveal Annie's death to her and were wondering nervously how she would react. They decided to let her speak first – narrate her day and talk about the event. Maybe she would ask them. That would be the best course.

They reached their house – a small semi-detached edifice with two rooms on the small upper floor, a small dining and living area combined on the right of the entrance and the stairs and kitchen to the left. It was quite cramped but they saved on the loan and hoped to own this property in addition to another investment.

"How was your day, Jenna?" Alice asked as they pulled onto the property.

"Fine."

"What did you do?"

"We had the sports day! You came, mum!"

"I know. How was it?"

"It was fun! We ran and Ms. Werner helped us win."

"Great!"

"Mum? Why was Annie missing? Nobody knew."

"Jenna, darling, Annie was killed." Alec said.

"Killed!" Jenna asked, all joy diminished. Alice glared at Alec.

"Yes. Daddy and mummy are going to find out who did it."

"Who would kill Annie?"

"We want to know that too."

"Will you find them?"

"We sure will, love."

"You guys will do it!"

"Love, do you know anything about who it could be?"

Jenna nodded a flat 'no.'

"Tell us if you think you know, ok?" Alec gave Jenna a reassuring pat on her head. Alice still glared.

They pulled in and did the daily evening routine – Jenna's homework, cooking and any remaining chores.

After a normal evening – an evening suspiciously normal for Alec – he had to ask, stirring the delicate balance as if he were addicted to the chaos: "what's wrong, Alice?"

"You."

"What?"

"I'm sick of the way to take control."

"What do you mean?"

"The way you force me to do things you know I would do. The way you took control of the conversation with me and Jenna. The way you take control at work. The way you control everything."

"I don't."

"Yes you do! Everything in my life is a struggle not to piss you off!"

"Alice, I-"

"No! You do not! You just get pissed off about some little shit and leave me wondering whether I did anything wrong."

"I've always been this way."

"Have you?"

"Yes."

"Really? Did you get pissed when I fucked up while we were dating?" She sighed. "Alec, you're becoming unforgiving and it's unforgivable."

"I'll make it up to you."

"You had better."

"Tell me how."

"Let me do what I want."

"Fine. I'll try. Tell me if I mess up."

"You never tell me."

"I do."

"You get pissed!"

"It's my way of telling."

"What if that's my way?"

"Then get pissed."

"Fine! This not pissed off enough for now?"

"I get your point right now. I'll change, I promise." Alec did not understand how he would change. He felt that he did not change in any way. Maybe she had – maybe she went from supportive to ambitious and was unable to realize. It did not matter, for her sake, he would change; he would take on the supportive role if he had to.

They went to sleep silently, neither arguing nor affectionately conversing, merely going to sleep.

The next morning marked solemnly, a terrible day. The wind did not blow and the birds did not chirp in the dead winter's chill that gripped the land. At ten in the morning, when they scheduled to speak with the Mortimer in question, the streets were dead. It felt as if the murdered became prolific, suddenly serially killing the entire town. This was the morning nature stopped to watch, the morning where God looked curiously, unable to judge yet who was the culprit and who was not damned. This was the morning Alec Hardy had to accuse the mother of killing her daughters.

They entered the hotel room. It was in a slight disarray as both occupants were too sad to care about the state of anything. Even their bodies were uncared for – both were unkempt, hungry and exhausted. Both did not care and spent the time in silence. Fortunately, Alec noted, there was no evidence of alcohol – once they slipped a foot down that slope, they would slide quickly to the bottom. Alec silently asked for Cate to come along to the office – there was no way anything but another murder would occur if Kyle were in earshot.

"Initial interview of Cate Mortimer. Saturday February seventh, ten thirty am." Hardy brought up the picture of the knife. "Mrs. Mortimer, do you recognize this?"

There was an explosion. Cate literally fell off her chair. She wailed. The two guards on hand stepped forward in case of their unfortunate need. "IT WAS NOT ME!"

"Mrs. Mortimer, would you please tell us where you were last Thursday night?"

"I was at home sleeping."

"And then?"

"I woke up on Friday."

"Mrs. Mortimer, we know you are lying. We have you leaving your residence before midnight. Why?"

"I-" Cate could not think. "I did not kill my Annie and Jane." She wailed once more. "How dare you think such a thing?"

"Our current evidence points to it."

"Bugger your evidence, I swear, I did not kill them. I could not. You saw me the morning of, I could not speak!"

"That does not explain anything, but your whereabouts on that night will, especially if we can prove it."

"Can I have a phone call?"

"No, I'm afraid not."

"I can't tell you, I swear."

"Why not?" Cate realized that she had had to give then something verifiable.

"I can't remember any of it."

"Any?"

"Yes. I was out with some friends and I got really drunk."

"You mean you were hung-over on Friday?"

"Yes, I was. The murder cured me of it, I could not even function, still barely can."

"I see. Can you remember any of these friends?"

"No."

"Can you provide me with a list?"

"No, I can't remember and I doubt they can."

"I see." Hardy sighed. "Seeing as you cannot give us any details, we will detain you until we know that you are not guilty."

"Don't you dare!" Cate approached a rage. "Don't you dare! Don't you dare!" The guards held her as the Hardy couple left.

Jamie entered the empty newsagents. He was given the usual cheery welcome until he directly approached the counter and his purpose stuck in Simpson's mind. "Am I a suspect?" Frank frankly phrased.

"Unfortunately, until you can tell us, on record, where you were on Thursday night."

"On record?"

"Yeah, let me start it."

"Alright."

Jamie did as required, recording the half past ten time. "Now, where were you on Thursday night?" Jamie asked.

"I was out, on my boat."

"I see, can we verify that?"

"Ask the harbour security guard – it's the Newcastle main private marina."

"Alright." Hardy was going to have him drive down. He grumbled internally at that thought as his phone rang. "Interview paused due to call." He paused the recorder.

"Yes, sir." He picked up.

"Can you ask if Frank saw Cate?"

"Sure."

"Great. Tell us quickly."

"Give me a minute."

"Get it on tape."

"Wilco." He hung up. "Resume." He sighed. "One more question, I'm afraid."

"Go on, I'm innocent anyway."

"Did you see Cate Mortimer on Thursday night?"

Simpson pondered for a few minutes. "I believe I did. I think I saw her entering the hotel."

"That's great, thank you."

"You're welcome."

"End interview." Jamie bought an obligatory bottle of water and left the store. Before setting off he texted Alec all the data.

"I'll get the hotel, go to Newcastle on Monday." Was the rewarding reply he received.

Alec immediately set off. In his furious pace, he reached the hotel in two minutes. He caught his breath at the reception where he also demanded the tapes from Thursday night. Seeing as there were none (the tapes were overwritten daily due to a budget shortage), he asked the manager whether a Cate Mortimer had gotten a room.

On record, the manager informed Alec that: "Yes, Cate Mortimer came to the hotel. She sought after Jim Mason who had booked a room for the night. They exited after a few hours and that was that."

"Did that not bother you?"

"It is not my place to pry into my customer's affairs, merely to offer them a room in exchange for their payment."

Hardy returned, wondering how to accuse the unfortunate wife of infidelity. Their relationship – the Mortimer couple – would end. Dead did them apart by killing their offspring.


	3. Chapter 3

Karen White had a mundane life. She went to an average secondary school, an even more average college and ended up living even more average days. She was bored of life. In Newcastle there were only two kinds of newspapers: the good because of the gang and the terrible because of the gang. The gang that secretly pulled the strings created the dichotomy by supporting certain editors and perspectives. Neither of the supported groups contained the paper White worked with: The Gazette Upon the Tyne. The paper had seriously considered shutting down for the last four years, but somehow lived on. Karen could not be seen as arrogant or narcissistic for believing that she was the paper's best reporter.

When the press release from Sandbrook rippled over Newcastle, Karen jumped the wave and swam to its origin. Many did that – other 'bad' papers also took the opportunity to cover something that was not gang-related. The murder seemed to be a textbook murder, almost designed by a divine imagination to pull at the heartstrings of an unsuspecting audience. That was the feeling she want to give the readers from the title to the final period of her many articles. She scrambled to catch a grip in the case. Fortunately for the smaller companies, the news arrived on a Saturday night. The word had spread primarily orally as nobody consistently checked the boring Sandbrook police website. Now, the full power of modern communication would be used to disseminate the data to every corner of the British Isles, so that even a resident on a cliff in the Shetlands would know the death of Annie Mortimer better than that of their ten mile away neighbour.

On the next morning, usually a relaxed Sunday, the hotel manager found himself catering to a sudden influx of guests. The reporters reached and took up most of the hotel's minute capacity. The national teams were literally blocked out by the swarm of nearly amateur news folk.

Then came the revelation that the Mortimer victims themselves were in the hotel. Immediately, the press saw to the impossibility of any exiting the room.

Kyle had already connected the dots: the police officer revisiting the hotel, Cate's arrest and then release – she was out on Thursday night and she must have come to the hotel. And she was not cooperative in informing the police, judging by the time they took to release her. Therefore, she must have been doing something at the hotel which she wanted to hide from the authorities. That thing must have involved somebody else and some infidelity. He did not quite connect the dots, yet now that he was stuck with her, he had had to ask. "So where were you Thursday?"

"Don't you start!"

"I have to."

"No. You can get away without knowing certain things."

"Not now."

"Especially now."

"I know you were with somebody."

"And?"

"Why and who?"

"You don't need to know."

"I do."

"Not."

"I have to know."

"How does it matter?"

"It does to me."

"Really?"

"Yes. I have to know."

"Why? Isn't it enough that you're not enough for me?"

"No, I want to know who is instead."

"Everybody."

"You bitch! I married you, dealt with you for thirteen years! This is what I get? I get treated as if what I did was wrong?" Kyle yelled even more. "You should be apologizing, you should be on your knees, not me!"

"Why? All you've done is bore me, force me into a life I don't want!"

"How?" Kyle sighed, resisting the resort to violence. "How have I ever forced you? When did you tell me I was forcing you?"

"You used guilt. You and all your made up sanctimonious logic!"

"When?"

"Always. That whole attitude that you were the rational one who could make all the decisions and I was the stupid one with feelings. You made me feel bad for anything I decided on."

"I never did!"

"You always have and still are."

"What?"

"It's never 'how do you feel Cate?' It's 'what do you think?' or 'I think this and this, don't you?'"

"I'm sorry, but you could have told me."

"You could have asked."

"How do you feel?"

"Right now?"

"Anytime, just tell me when."

"Presently, I'm pissed off that you thought I loved you, I'm pissed off that I never told you, that I assumed that we would end. I never felt that this was right and don't understand how you did."

"Wow. I'll just let you cool down, then?"

"You had better."

"Fine." Their relationship was evidently decaying. Kyle wondered what became of his seemingly perfect life. A knife ruined it all in two swift strokes.

Hayes' Sunday was much better. He had never expected to have to preach on a murder but he saw it as his God given duty to unite the town in finding the killer. Alec showed up to scout for guilty faces. The town showed up as a Sunday tradition. A few reporters showed up to stay religious and report on the town's state.

"Good morning ladies and gentlemen." The reverend began. "We are gathered here to pray, to demonstrate to our Lord that we care. Usually, we need not show our full caring potential. We merely care to observe a tradition and in that caring do hope to avoid Hell. Yet, this past week has called upon us to care further. Recently, the police have informed us that Annie and Jane Mortimer were murdered in their beds as they slept." The reverend paused to let his words echo and permeate the hall. "In violation of His holy word, in heinous action and pitiful sin, one of us has committed this act. I would wish for him to stand up. I would wish even more that he had never done what he has. Yet we must live within the present. As devotees to the Lord above, we must care as the Lord demands. As Christ sacrificed his life for all sin, we must spare a few minutes a few times for the sin of the said criminal. We must aid our neighbours and we must aid our aid. We must stay truthful to the police and we must stay faithful to Mr. and Mrs. Mortimer."

After a quick quote from the Bible, the reverend let the town disperse. In dispersal, many remained within the church's premises. There were conversations about the speech, rumours about the case. Alec had a difficult time staying discreet as he attempted to weed out the guilty.

Karen had a grand time collecting her data and making a general impression of the town. She had tried to ask people about everything – a day in the life, about the events, about the church and about the police. There was a great story to be written about the murder. The case was brilliant – the quintessential small village, the perfectly innocent victims, the struggling citizens and the clueless government. Then a cherry landed on top of this stack: she spotted the DI – Alec Hardy – outside the church.

"Hello Mr Hardy." Hardy did not know that the human jawline allowed for that size of a smile. Not that anything would suit that face to Hardy's eyes – there was too much black around her eyes, in her hair and curving on her eyelashes. With all the makeup, all she seemed to be able to do was look more like a raven.

"Hi." Hardy wondered what she wanted.

"My name is Karen White, and I wanted to ask you a few questions about the case."

"Are you with the press?" Suddenly, the day turned terrible.

"Yes."

"There will be an announcement tomorrow, we will give all the details there."

"But-"

"I'm sorry, Ms. White, you will have to wait." Hardy turned and sighed, driving straight home, worried about the horrible result of the press.

Hardy explained the predicament to Alice. "Don't be so negative." Alice moaned.

"It will get bad."

"So what?"

"We will have to deal with it."

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it."

"It will get to us."

"No, really."

"I think it will."

Alec was right. In two hours, there was a crowd outside their house, ready with clicking cameras and swarming reporters.

Alec told them in a polite way to piss off. They did not, leading him to resort to using less polite words. Fortunately, he had the self-control to avoid turning their exit into a violent fiasco – it would have only worsened the situation.

Left with little else, the press found themselves at the Mortimer room. There was nothing happening inside. Each reported knocked, hoping for a better response than the last. Each reporter was rejected. Room service had to carve their way through the throng to forestall any actual encounters with the Mortimer parents and the media.

Finally White sighed. On a piece of paper, she scribbled in the neatest writing the crowd would let her: "I understand that this is difficult, but the quickest way to get rid of us is to tell us everything once. Sorry for your loss and sorry for this pressure, but wouldn't it be nice if everybody understood? We can make it happen." As the room service walked by to collect the lunch, she passed the note, ensuring that it was signed with the name of her paper – the Gazette Upon the Tyne.

She hoped that her writing had an effect – it was her job to write for effect. It seemingly did as the door opened a crack – there was still the chain preventing a flood of the media. "Karen White?" A male voice boomed down the suddenly quiet hall.

Karen rushed forward and peered into the door. "Yes?"

"Please come in."

"Do you mind the cameraman?"

"Let him in as well."

They squeezed in as well as they could. The door was barely open and many attempted to force their way in. It was all a little unfair as to how Karen got the privilege, but a dog-eat-dog world was a report-beat-reporter one and Karen was top dog now.

"Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Mortimer." She said as delicately as she could. They grunted. "I am terribly sorry for all the commotion and-"

"If you were sorry, why were you outside?" Kyle asked.

"Well, you see, Mister Mortimer, there are two types of reporters: those who report to earn and those who report to serve." She really should have considered a job in politics. "I hope to be in the latter crowd – the smaller crowd that should be outside your door."

"But you're not."

"I do not know. I strive to be. What I wrote on the note, I mean it all."

"So you want to cover us as we are and help Britain understand what this feels like?"

"Yes."

"Well, they should never know what this is like!"

Cate patted Kyle on his shoulder, hoping he would calm down. "Listen, Ms. White, we are willing to tell you about it as long as you help us as you promised."

"But-" Kyle began to say.

"The people will support us, right?"

"I hope so – I will try to make them."

"Alright. That's what I want."

"Mister Mortimer?"

"There's no point arguing against her." He grumbled.

"Well, tell me if there's anything either of you'd like to omit."

"There'll be some."

"Alright, to start with, why don't you two talk about your daughters?"

"What's there to say?" Cate sighed.

"I don't know – how were they in school?"

"They were normal – fine, really, they did nothing." Cate's look grew distant. "They did nothing."

"Nothing you know of?"

"Nothing at all – how could they, they were only 9 and 11."

"My condolences."

"Sure enough." Kyle grunted.

"They even helped out in volunteering. Who would want to kill them?" Cate said.

"Volunteering?"

"Yeah. The bartender – Daniels – runs this thing where they help with school events and other small local things."

"I see. Was that daily?"

"No – they meet on Tuesdays and Thursdays."

"Interesting." The interview bore on in that nature, leaving Karen with a lot more work than she expected – work that was finally comparable to the level she had reached in college. She decided to go and speak to the few distinguished characters from the family's story. There was the bartender – Jack Daniels, the French teacher – Susan Werner. After the family characters, she would try to weasel her way into the police office – that would take a lot more effort than a note.

Susan exited the room as she entered it, only with a nearly full notepad to evidence any change in her state. Her view on the case was almost righteous – she was playing a holy role, one ordained by a deity – the case had to be solved and everybody had to help. It was the natural order of such things.

With that she hurried to the Hardy house. The press had left, giving her the chance to enter to premises. She rang the doorbell, wondering whether to expect a rock to come down from one of the upper windows. Instead, a rock opened the door. Alec was sickened and tired. Alice seemed to be growing distant and there was nothing he seemed to be able to do. Jenna was distraught about Annie's death and was generally quiet, casting a melancholy air about the house. The case was not going well and his life decided to join it in taking a turn for the worse.

"Hello, I'm Karen White." She offered a hand.

"How may I help you, Ms. White?" Hardy grunted, shaking the hand uncaringly.

"I am with the Gazette-"

Hardy cut her off before she could even finish. "There will be a press release after tomorrow."

"Any words before that?"

"No comment." Hardy shut the door.

Karen sighed. She would have to go with the latest, two day old bulletin: the bodies were found and it is a murder and the weapon is a known knife and suspects are being questioned and alibis checked. That was useless. It was also expected. The small paragraph on the police would be a short one and Karen did not like that.

Karen trudged onto her next step: a chat with the teacher. The Werner home, a difficult thing to track down, elusively outside of the main community and on its own field, was a larger building, suggesting an old opulence that wore out as the Werner bloodline did. It was quickly apparent (by the date on a plaque) that the household pre-dated the church: it was first built in the 1700s as a farm.

Werner herself was the inverse: she was young and short with small chestnut curls curving just beneath her ears. Nothing in the delicate body suggested that it would plough a field. "Hello."

"Hi. I'm Karen White from the Gazette upon the Tyne."

"I see. You lost?"

"Is this the Werner home?"

"You say it as if I was not alone."

"Sorry. Is it?"

"Of course!"

"So you are Ms. Werner, the French teacher?"

"Yes. And you are probably here to ask about Annie and Jane."

"Exactly, may I?"

"As long as I can kick you out when in need."

"You can."

"Come in. Can I make you a tea?"

"That would be lovely."

Susan directed Karen to a living room. The room was tidy and a few paintings graced the green walls. There were old wooden chairs around an older fireplace. Karen wondered how this place could create a suspect.

Tea was set on a small table in dainty cups with flower frilled outlines. The steaming Earl Grey was a welcome contrast to the cold weather and colder receptions White had come to expect.

"So, how's it been?" Susan asked.

"Alright. Got to talk to the Mortimer parents."

"Really?" Susan sipped her tea. "Well done."

"I wish I could understand how they feel."

"I'm thankful I don't fully feel it."

"I wish people would realize and come to help, you know?"

"We can't have too many chefs spoil the broth."

"The broth is spoilt."

"It can get worse."

"Really?"

"If you media people obstruct the police."

"I doubt I would."

"I hope you don't."

They sipped from their cups in quiet thought. "So, you were the girl's French teacher, right?"

"And I ran both their homerooms."

"I see."

"They were great students – promising in most things. I don't know who would want to kill them."

"Do you have any ideas?"

"It's not for me to say – I don't understand how anybody can kill anyone else."

"Fair point. It's unfortunate that this happens." Homicide was the primary area of coverage within the Gazette and most of the papers in Newcastle. The police was overrun. Yet, the victims were gang members or idiotic delinquents, not innocent children. "So, what can you add about the girls?"

"What have the parents allowed me to?" Karen paused and looked as if she had been slapped.

"I haven't asked."

"Please do."

"I shall. Anything you want to say about the case?"

"Sandbrook isn't the sort of town where stuff like this happens."


	4. Chapter 4

Monday was a bit of a drag for Karen White. The morning was nice in that she got to see her hard work pay off in the form of a great, two-page feature in the Gazette. Everything about the town was there – a miniature map, the data she scraped together about everybody she met, various hopeful and desperate anonymous quotes and a section on everything the police had done. Then came another article – by her – on the Mortimer parents. It was more exclusive than royalty. The Gazette was the only paper in the world which could directly quote the victims' parents. Sales skyrocketed. They reached a point where the Gazette became a temporary household name.

Then came the most boring afternoon she had had. She expected to be at the heels of interrogations, questioning suspects about everything the police had done and anything they would do. Instead, she was resting in her hotel room. Then, at one thirty, her cameraman ceaselessly peppered her door with knocks. She groggily opened, wondering what he knew.

"I got photos of their evidence board!"

"You what?" She was not sure if she had lost the ability to interpret English.

"Their evidence board! I have photos of it!"

"No way."

"Yeah! We snuck in after one of the DS's and we got a shot."

"Other papers have it as well?"

"I'm not a God!"

"Fair enough."

"We should get to the people before it's too late." Karen rushed to put on her coat, unable to agree more with her trusty cameraman.

"So what's the list?"

"We have Cate M, Jim Mason, Harvey Hayes, Frank Simpson, Jack Daniels and Rob Cripps."

"That's all?"

"So far. They've actually crossed out most of the names."

"Who's left?"

"Simpson and Cripps – they had 're-do' written next to them."

"That's all?"

"There was 'pendant' and 'break-in device' written on the board as well."

"Alright." Karen sighed. "They have a press release at five." She thought out a loud. "You want to take notes?"

"What? Me?"

"Well, I can't say I'll be there."

"But-"

"Ask about anything on the board or anything you saw and find a way to record everything."

"But I'm-"

"You'll be fine."

"If I screw this up, we'll probably lose our jobs."

"Record absolutely everything and you won't."

"And you?"

"I'll have to talk to Cate, Frank, Jack, Jim, Harvey and Rob."

"All of them?"

"What else?"

"Fine."

"Study up – you'll do a better job that way."

"Have fun!"

"I will." The day seemed to brighten up. Karen emerged onto the high street and saw that there was a commotion at the bar. As a moral reporter, she was drawn to it.

The bar was packed with people attempting to talk to Daniels. Daniels hid in a back office and hired another tender for the next few nights. The other tender dispensed this much: Daniels was not guilty and had already proven the fact to the police and he merely wanted peace to continue his store's normal operation.

Jotting that down, White surmised that she would not get any more out of the poor man. Thus, she snuck away, making sure she had exited discreetly. She walked to the newsagent's and saw the Frank was not there. In the light, she decided to drive to the car dealership.

The small store had a small meeting inside. Karen entered, unsure what to make of this town meeting. "Please return after half an hour." Rob called out.

"It's very quick."

"It can probably wait."

"Half an hour?"

"Yeah."

"See you."

Karen decided to talk to Cate. Cate had been the more open of the couple and filled Karen with a little more hope.

She knocked on the door and entered a slightly full house. The reverend and carpenter were there. The coincidence was too great to pass unnoticed.

Cate had opened the door (probably the reason White could enter) and ushered her in. "You all have probably read her work." Cate said.

"How may we help?"

"It had come to my attention that you all were suspects." Everybody frowned. "Except you, Mr. Mortimer."

"So far." Kyle grumbled.

"Isn't it better that way?"

"So, you will want to interview us?" Jim spoke up.

"Yes."

"Individually?" The reverend asked, hopeful to not have to allocate time for the press.

"Not really."

"If it's alright then, since we all have not sinned, maybe we can do it here."

"That would be perfect." White looked at Cate, not desiring to know Kyle's reaction. Kyle merely walked out as Cate nodded her consent.

"Well firstly, how did you all come to be suspected?"

"Personally, I think it was because I'm under the same roof." Cate said unevenly.

"I was out that night." Jim said.

"Same." The reverend seconded.

"Evidence had indicated that the murder weapon had been found."

"It was one of our knives." Cate said.

"Good gosh!" Jim cried out as Hayes crossed himself and incanted briefly.

"So the killer took a knife to frame you?"

"I don't know."

"And how did each of you clear the blame?"

Jim and Cate exchanged a glance. Of all things, the nation would not know of their ignominy. They would have to craft an elegant tale. "I was on a call." Jim said. "I showed them the call and a receipt and they seemed to understand." White stared blankly, unconvinced. "I'm pretty sure they checked the address, but I don't know."

"What was the address?"

"I don't remember." Jim could at least play this card against the press.

"And you, Cate?" She asked, noting the glance.

"I was…" She did not want to tell anybody. But she could not lie.

"Weren't you out with some friends?" Jim cut in. "That's what you told me."

"Yes, I was and the police called the friends to confirm."

"I see." White sighed. "Why did you tell Jim?"

"He asked."

"I was wondering where she was. It must have been hard for the killer to go unnoticed in the house." Jim said.

"Well, you never know, I guess." White knew that there was some sketchy linkage between the two, but was not sure of its nature. "And you reverend, how did you get the police off your back?"

"I told them the truth: I was out walking and I stopped to talk to Frank Simpson."

"I see. They checked with Simpson?"

"You'll have to ask him, but I think so."

"Alright. Last question: how are you guys here at the same time."

"I had them over to see what we can do for the girls. The police won't give us the bodies until the investigation's over and we want something religious and maybe we could have something built." Cate said.

"I see." White put away her page of notes. "Thank you." She left, thanking God that Kyle was not involved. That would have frayed her nerves.

She got into her car, noting that twenty of her thirty minutes had passed. In the intervening ten, she decided to check on the bar and then the newsagent's. The bar was in the same state was when she had left it: the press was hounding the innocent suspect who had decided to talk at five.

The newsagent's was closed. Frank was away and Karen would have to struggle to find him. Luck let her speak to three of the six suspects, but the more the merrier.

She knew that a chat with Rob was all she could expect. She pulled into the store's small parking lot and entered. To her surprise, she found Simpson in the store as well.

"I'll leave, then." Simpson suggested as White spoke about her half hour wait.

"Actually, I did want to talk to you as well, so please stay."

"Alright. What about your car concerns the newsagent?"

"It's not about the car – it's that I wanted to ask you questions about the case."

"A reporter, I see." Simpson exclaimed, sitting on Rob's desk.

"It had come to my attention that you were suspects and I was wondering how."

"Wandering." Simpson said.

"Wandering?"

"Yeah. He and I went on my boat and they saw us. They thought we were up to no good, but we proved them wrong – they saw it at the Newcastle dock."

"I see."

"It's that simple."

"Really? For you as well, Rob?"

"Yes." Rob replied.

"Brilliant." White noted the quotes and exited. She reached the hotel quickly, surprised at the time she made it in – five suspects in fifty minutes; it was a marvel! At least the cameraman would not have to cover the police press release. Karen decided to visit the bar after the release. Maybe she could get some facts before the company started the press. She would personally drive the hour to Newcastle if that's what it took.

"You all finished?" The man asked in disbelief.

"Yeah – they were all in clumps."

"I see." The man sighed nervously. "So I won't have to cover the release?"

"Yes, you don't."

"Good."

"But after that, we have to chat with Jack."

"Why?"

"He's quiet until five."

"Bollocks."

"It is what it is."

"Pity."

"I'll go into the fray and see if I can get anything out."

"You'll meet me at five?"

"At the police office."

"Alright." With that Karen left, foreboding the huge crowd she would have to plunge into to receive any reports.

The crowd had not moved. Everybody was asking a question or yelling out some incomplete report. Karen knew there was probably no hope. Then again, she won with Cate Mortimer. She was hopeful that she was the only person wise enough to talk to the other suspects.

She pushed her way to the bar and found it tended by the replacement – some very young man who was out of his depth. He must have had a licence somehow. The man was quietly telling everybody that Jack would talk at five. He had served the few customers who had dared to dine at the bar – their experience was soured dramatically by the media.

"Why five?" Somebody asked for their first time and the tender's ninetieth.

"Jack said so." The man replied, without even thinking and wishing he had written the response down somewhere.

Karen sighed and waited the hour, asking if Jack would take a note and getting the "no." There was nothing to do but something to miss – the principle the media followed for anything.

In the hour, Karen mentally went through the information she had about Jack: Jack was the bartender and ran a volunteering group the girls were in. There was no known motive – none of the paedophilia associated with a young man alone with much younger girls, nothing in his criminal record and nothing particularly incriminated. Yet he was a suspect. Even the mother was a suspect!

Karen mentally drafted an article about the case, the level of chaos when a mother was accused of murdering their offspring. She began to include notes on each suspect, mapping out pieces of the case.

Before she knew it, the crowd was disappearing. Drawn out of her reverie, she checked the time quickly. It was fifteen to five and she needed to get to the press release. She began to walk to the police office.

Soon enough, she caught up with her cameraman. They hurried along.

Alec had enough of the press and grunted quite animatedly when he saw the crowd to which he had to present. The media already knew about the suspects, thus he decided to divulge those details as well, making his speech considerably longer than his previous one.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen." He began. "I am quite sure you all have your questions and we will cater to them all in due time. Firstly, there are two things I would like to say. I would like to repeat and emphasize that at this point the local department is trying its best to find the killer and we would like that you do not impede our efforts and Mr. and Mrs. Mortimer's difficult recovery. Secondly, I am aware that most of you have had some unauthorized access to our evidence board. Thus, I must ask you to do all you can to avoid unfairly incriminating any of the people you may speak about as that would be an injustice to them. None of our current suspects may be the murderer – every one of their whereabouts have been accounted for. We will tell you this much: everything so far had been based on CCTV footage which has suggested that the perpetrator is most probably a middle aged male. We are going to further our search through other evidence." Alec sighed. He hoped he had balanced the media's infamous curiosity with the privacy of the people he had just mentioned. "Feel free to ask any questions you may have."

Hands and shouts shot up until Hardy called out: "One at a time please!"

Hands were raised as if Hardy was a teacher asking the students the year's last question, the question between them and freedom for a summer.

"You with the BBC." Hardy pointed at a cameraman.

"What is your next move?"

"We have other evidence which we will need to evaluate and then we will see if that raises any other suspicion." Hardy paused. None of the hands had disappeared. "Lady in the red skirt."

"What about the pendant and break-in device?"

"Those have yet to be found." Again no hands disappeared. "Guy from the times."

"How long would the case be funded for?"

"We are not certain. I will work on it for as long as it takes. Mister in the black suit."

"Who do you think the killer is?" Shutters clicked immediately, in a vain attempt to capture a reaction from Hardy's barren face.

"I cannot tell who the killer is. Lady in pink."

"How are you going about finding the two items?"

"We will ask the town if they've ever seen either and we will have to hope for the best. There are photos of the pendant and the presumed break-in device on our website." Hardy checked the clock. "All right, three more questions." Hands flailed with renewed desperation. "Gentleman with the messenger bag."

"When will we be update on the progress in the case?"

"We will announce a press release when we see something to release to the press. Two more: lady in blue and then lady in that black shirt."

"When will the court case be made?" The one in blue asked, wasting a query to everybody's chagrin.

"Once we have a guilty suspect, as always. Next one."

"How are the family being helped?" Somebody who was definitely not the lady in black called out.

"We hope to help them by finding the killer and offering the closure. We have already helped by minimizing the impact our investigation would make on their life." Hardy sighed and picked up his paper. "Thank you and good night." He exited swiftly, hearing a rising cacophony behind him.

Alec strode into the darkness. Alice and Jamie had left, calling it a short day at three thirty. He walked away as quickly as he could, hoping to minimize the risk of running into media.

Soon, he reached his house. He walked in to a new smell: the forgotten smell of fresh food. He heard quiet chatter and quickly headed to it. He found Jamie and Alice chatting on the couch and Jenna playing in her own doodled world. He put his things down, said his hellos and sat next to Jenna.

He passed the night generally quiet, wondering how his subordinate and wife were having a more animated discussion than he ever managed with her.

After Jamie left and Alice smiled for some time, Alec asked her about why he was here.

"Company."

"Alright, but you should tell me if you're lonely."

"You're married to the case."

"I care about you, Alice, don't doubt that."

"I don't care about you."

"But Jamie, instead?"

"I don't know. Maybe." Hardy sighed. He wondered whether he had truly fallen in love with this Alice. Had he been stupid for the last nine years? He wondered what would become of the future and what he would have to do.


	5. Chapter 5

Monday was a bit of a drag for Karen White. The morning was nice in that she got to see her hard work pay off in the form of a great, two-page feature in the Gazette. Everything about the town was there – a miniature map, the data she scraped together about everybody she met, various hopeful and desperate anonymous quotes and a section on everything the police had done. Then came another article – by her – on the Mortimer parents. It was more exclusive than royalty. The Gazette was the only paper in the world which could directly quote the victims' parents. Sales skyrocketed. They reached a point where the Gazette became a temporary household name.

Then came the most boring afternoon she had had. She expected to be at the heels of interrogations, questioning suspects about everything the police had done and anything they would do. Instead, she was resting in her hotel room. Then, at one thirty, her cameraman ceaselessly peppered her door with knocks. She groggily opened, wondering what he knew.

"I got photos of their evidence board!"

"You what?" She was not sure if she had lost the ability to interpret English.

"Their evidence board! I have photos of it!"

"No way."

"Yeah! We snuck in after one of the DS's and we got a shot."

"Other papers have it as well?"

"I'm not a God!"

"Fair enough."

"We should get to the people before it's too late." Karen rushed to put on her coat, unable to agree more with her trusty cameraman.

"So what's the list?"

"We have Cate M, Jim Mason, Harvey Hayes, Frank Simpson, Jack Daniels and Rob Cripps."

"That's all?"

"So far. They've actually crossed out most of the names."

"Who's left?"

"Simpson and Cripps – they had 're-do' written next to them."

"That's all?"

"There was 'pendant' and 'break-in device' written on the board as well."

"Alright." Karen sighed. "They have a press release at five." She thought out a loud. "You want to take notes?"

"What? Me?"

"Well, I can't say I'll be there."

"But-"

"Ask about anything on the board or anything you saw and find a way to record everything."

"But I'm-"

"You'll be fine."

"If I screw this up, we'll probably lose our jobs."

"Record absolutely everything and you won't."

"And you?"

"I'll have to talk to Cate, Frank, Jack, Jim, Harvey and Rob."

"All of them?"

"What else?"

"Fine."

"Study up – you'll do a better job that way."

"Have fun!"

"I will." The day seemed to brighten up. Karen emerged onto the high street and saw that there was a commotion at the bar. As a moral reporter, she was drawn to it.

The bar was packed with people attempting to talk to Daniels. Daniels hid in a back office and hired another tender for the next few nights. The other tender dispensed this much: Daniels was not guilty and had already proven the fact to the police and he merely wanted peace to continue his store's normal operation.

Jotting that down, White surmised that she would not get any more out of the poor man. Thus, she snuck away, making sure she had exited discreetly. She walked to the newsagent's and saw the Frank was not there. In the light, she decided to drive to the car dealership.

The small store had a small meeting inside. Karen entered, unsure what to make of this town meeting. "Please return after half an hour." Rob called out.

"It's very quick."

"It can probably wait."

"Half an hour?"

"Yeah."

"See you."

Karen decided to talk to Cate. Cate had been the more open of the couple and filled Karen with a little more hope.

She knocked on the door and entered a slightly full house. The reverend and carpenter were there. The coincidence was too great to pass unnoticed.

Cate had opened the door (probably the reason White could enter) and ushered her in. "You all have probably read her work." Cate said.

"How may we help?"

"It had come to my attention that you all were suspects." Everybody frowned. "Except you, Mr. Mortimer."

"So far." Kyle grumbled.

"Isn't it better that way?"

"So, you will want to interview us?" Jim spoke up.

"Yes."

"Individually?" The reverend asked, hopeful to not have to allocate time for the press.

"Not really."

"If it's alright then, since we all have not sinned, maybe we can do it here."

"That would be perfect." White looked at Cate, not desiring to know Kyle's reaction. Kyle merely walked out as Cate nodded her consent.

"Well firstly, how did you all come to be suspected?"

"Personally, I think it was because I'm under the same roof." Cate said unevenly.

"I was out that night." Jim said.

"Same." The reverend seconded.

"Evidence had indicated that the murder weapon had been found."

"It was one of our knives." Cate said.

"Good gosh!" Jim cried out as Hayes crossed himself and incanted briefly.

"So the killer took a knife to frame you?"

"I don't know."

"And how did each of you clear the blame?"

Jim and Cate exchanged a glance. Of all things, the nation would not know of their ignominy. They would have to craft an elegant tale. "I was on a call." Jim said. "I showed them the call and a receipt and they seemed to understand." White stared blankly, unconvinced. "I'm pretty sure they checked the address, but I don't know."

"What was the address?"

"I don't remember." Jim could at least play this card against the press.

"And you, Cate?" She asked, noting the glance.

"I was…" She did not want to tell anybody. But she could not lie.

"Weren't you out with some friends?" Jim cut in. "That's what you told me."

"Yes, I was and the police called the friends to confirm."

"I see." White sighed. "Why did you tell Jim?"

"He asked."

"I was wondering where she was. It must have been hard for the killer to go unnoticed in the house." Jim said.

"Well, you never know, I guess." White knew that there was some sketchy linkage between the two, but was not sure of its nature. "And you reverend, how did you get the police off your back?"

"I told them the truth: I was out walking and I stopped to talk to Frank Simpson."

"I see. They checked with Simpson?"

"You'll have to ask him, but I think so."

"Alright. Last question: how are you guys here at the same time."

"I had them over to see what we can do for the girls. The police won't give us the bodies until the investigation's over and we want something religious and maybe we could have something built." Cate said.

"I see." White put away her page of notes. "Thank you." She left, thanking God that Kyle was not involved. That would have frayed her nerves.

She got into her car, noting that twenty of her thirty minutes had passed. In the intervening ten, she decided to check on the bar and then the newsagent's. The bar was in the same state was when she had left it: the press was hounding the innocent suspect who had decided to talk at five.

The newsagent's was closed. Frank was away and Karen would have to struggle to find him. Luck let her speak to three of the six suspects, but the more the merrier.

She knew that a chat with Rob was all she could expect. She pulled into the store's small parking lot and entered. To her surprise, she found Simpson in the store as well.

"I'll leave, then." Simpson suggested as White spoke about her half hour wait.

"Actually, I did want to talk to you as well, so please stay."

"Alright. What about your car concerns the newsagent?"

"It's not about the car – it's that I wanted to ask you questions about the case."

"A reporter, I see." Simpson exclaimed, sitting on Rob's desk.

"It had come to my attention that you were suspects and I was wondering how."

"Wandering." Simpson said.

"Wandering?"

"Yeah. He and I went on my boat and they saw us. They thought we were up to no good, but we proved them wrong – they saw it at the Newcastle dock."

"I see."

"It's that simple."

"Really? For you as well, Rob?"

"Yes." Rob replied.

"Brilliant." White noted the quotes and exited. She reached the hotel quickly, surprised at the time she made it in – five suspects in fifty minutes; it was a marvel! At least the cameraman would not have to cover the police press release. Karen decided to visit the bar after the release. Maybe she could get some facts before the company started the press. She would personally drive the hour to Newcastle if that's what it took.

"You all finished?" The man asked in disbelief.

"Yeah – they were all in clumps."

"I see." The man sighed nervously. "So I won't have to cover the release?"

"Yes, you don't."

"Good."

"But after that, we have to chat with Jack."

"Why?"

"He's quiet until five."

"Bollocks."

"It is what it is."

"Pity."

"I'll go into the fray and see if I can get anything out."

"You'll meet me at five?"

"At the police office."

"Alright." With that Karen left, foreboding the huge crowd she would have to plunge into to receive any reports.

The crowd had not moved. Everybody was asking a question or yelling out some incomplete report. Karen knew there was probably no hope. Then again, she won with Cate Mortimer. She was hopeful that she was the only person wise enough to talk to the other suspects.

She pushed her way to the bar and found it tended by the replacement – some very young man who was out of his depth. He must have had a licence somehow. The man was quietly telling everybody that Jack would talk at five. He had served the few customers who had dared to dine at the bar – their experience was soured dramatically by the media.

"Why five?" Somebody asked for their first time and the tender's ninetieth.

"Jack said so." The man replied, without even thinking and wishing he had written the response down somewhere.

Karen sighed and waited the hour, asking if Jack would take a note and getting the "no." There was nothing to do but something to miss – the principle the media followed for anything.

In the hour, Karen mentally went through the information she had about Jack: Jack was the bartender and ran a volunteering group the girls were in. There was no known motive – none of the paedophilia associated with a young man alone with much younger girls, nothing in his criminal record and nothing particularly incriminated. Yet he was a suspect. Even the mother was a suspect!

Karen mentally drafted an article about the case, the level of chaos when a mother was accused of murdering their offspring. She began to include notes on each suspect, mapping out pieces of the case.

Before she knew it, the crowd was disappearing. Drawn out of her reverie, she checked the time quickly. It was fifteen to five and she needed to get to the press release. She began to walk to the police office.

Soon enough, she caught up with her cameraman. They hurried along.

Alec had enough of the press and grunted quite animatedly when he saw the crowd to which he had to present. The media already knew about the suspects, thus he decided to divulge those details as well, making his speech considerably longer than his previous one.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen." He began. "I am quite sure you all have your questions and we will cater to them all in due time. Firstly, there are two things I would like to say. I would like to repeat and emphasize that at this point the local department is trying its best to find the killer and we would like that you do not impede our efforts and Mr. and Mrs. Mortimer's difficult recovery. Secondly, I am aware that most of you have had some unauthorized access to our evidence board. Thus, I must ask you to do all you can to avoid unfairly incriminating any of the people you may speak about as that would be an injustice to them. None of our current suspects may be the murderer – every one of their whereabouts have been accounted for. We will tell you this much: everything so far had been based on CCTV footage which has suggested that the perpetrator is most probably a middle aged male. We are going to further our search through other evidence." Alec sighed. He hoped he had balanced the media's infamous curiosity with the privacy of the people he had just mentioned. "Feel free to ask any questions you may have."

Hands and shouts shot up until Hardy called out: "One at a time please!"

Hands were raised as if Hardy was a teacher asking the students the year's last question, the question between them and freedom for a summer.

"You with the BBC." Hardy pointed at a cameraman.

"What is your next move?"

"We have other evidence which we will need to evaluate and then we will see if that raises any other suspicion." Hardy paused. None of the hands had disappeared. "Lady in the red skirt."

"What about the pendant and break-in device?"

"Those have yet to be found." Again no hands disappeared. "Guy from the times."

"How long would the case be funded for?"

"We are not certain. I will work on it for as long as it takes. Mister in the black suit."

"Who do you think the killer is?" Shutters clicked immediately, in a vain attempt to capture a reaction from Hardy's barren face.

"I cannot tell who the killer is. Lady in pink."

"How are you going about finding the two items?"

"We will ask the town if they've ever seen either and we will have to hope for the best. There are photos of the pendant and the presumed break-in device on our website." Hardy checked the clock. "All right, three more questions." Hands flailed with renewed desperation. "Gentleman with the messenger bag."

"When will we be update on the progress in the case?"

"We will announce a press release when we see something to release to the press. Two more: lady in blue and then lady in that black shirt."

"When will the court case be made?" The one in blue asked, wasting a query to everybody's chagrin.

"Once we have a guilty suspect, as always. Next one."

"How are the family being helped?" Somebody who was definitely not the lady in black called out.

"We hope to help them by finding the killer and offering the closure. We have already helped by minimizing the impact our investigation would make on their life." Hardy sighed and picked up his paper. "Thank you and good night." He exited swiftly, hearing a rising cacophony behind him.

Alec strode into the darkness. Alice and Jamie had left, calling it a short day at three thirty. He walked away as quickly as he could, hoping to minimize the risk of running into media.

Soon, he reached his house. He walked in to a new smell: the forgotten smell of fresh food. He heard quiet chatter and quickly headed to it. He found Jamie and Alice chatting on the couch and Jenna playing in her own doodled world. He put his things down, said his hellos and sat next to Jenna.

He passed the night generally quiet, wondering how his subordinate and wife were having a more animated discussion than he ever managed with her.

After Jamie left and Alice smiled for some time, Alec asked her about why he was here.

"Company."

"Alright, but you should tell me if you're lonely."

"You're married to the case."

"I care about you, Alice, don't doubt that."

"I don't care about you."

"But Jamie, instead?"

"I don't know. Maybe." Hardy sighed. He wondered whether he had truly fallen in love with this Alice. Had he been stupid for the last nine years? He wondered what would become of the future and what he would have to do.


	6. Chapter 6

Mass media mayhem had two layers: the press and the people. The press was the layer of journalists and reporters, the people who spread the word and brought the second layer: the general populous. These were worse, they were ambitious depraved souls who need to make a quick earning off a case. They conned people with psychic abilities or played roles as vigilantes. These people were dangerous. On Tuesday, they arrived.

The new crowd swarmed in the old places: the Mortimer residence and the police office.

Cate had had enough of these people. All morning, people told her some twisted riddle about the killer and then demanded a payment. Others asked her inane questions about the case. She wondered what Kyle was up to in the backyard until she saw him similarly occupied. Slowly, after a gruelling time, they managed to push the people away and enjoy their depressed day in peace.

Those people merely fell back to the police office which was already flooded by their friends.

The people followed their press predecessors and forced their way into the police office. There, they were worse by actually talking to the officers. The people offered help and asked questions. A few turned violent, fearing the police's might. The office was rendered unusable for an hour as the flood increased before finally ebbing due to Hardy's damming effects.

As the people began to emerge, the press decided to cover them, their own brainwashed victims. Thus, the media was outside the office again, covering a new angle: the country's response. People all the way from Cornwall had made it to see the town and talk to the policemen they would have glimpsed on TV.

White was proud of her efforts. Despite all this crowding and conformity, her paper was unique. They had all the details and actual interviews. Karen was the only reporter who got to speak to five of the six suspect. Jack was elusive and the media turned unsavoury in their hypothesises as to why. Besides that, her coverage was detailed: there were mentions of everything and she was the only reporter who connected all the dots fully. The Gazette's sales were shooting upwards as more people demanded it and other papers and news outlets stooped to quote it.

With the continued coverage, everybody knew that the number of people in and around Sandbrook would increase. It would spiral downwards for the police and upwards for the press as people thronged to see. Only closing the case, time or the presence of all of the Isles would prevent the population from increasing.

Yet, Tuesday was dull. No new angles emerged. None of the evidence was found. There was not enough material for more than a paragraph – a two line paragraph at that. The media rehashed matters of the case and spoke of what the future would hold. Either the case would get solved soon or it would be frozen – funding would ebb, resources would end and nobody would know either Mortimer's killer.

This did mean less work – leaving Jamie and Alice slightly happy and Alec completely depressed. There was a trapped feeling as the police retraced its steps and found no flaws, deciding to repeat that procedure as much as possible before funding dried.

Wednesday drifted by. Days blurred back into the same grey blend of boredom. Weeks vanished as it slowly became March.

On the first of March, funds dried. The file was closed. The case's work terminated. This left Hardy with a failure and no work.

Idle in his office, he tried to find his subordinates who had been commensurately idle for the past fortnight. Alice wrote a quick note: "We're on patrol!" Neither she nor Jamie actually had patrol duty, so he presumed they snuck off somewhere and he did not particularly care – all they would do was complain about him. Alice had become great friends with Jamie. He wondered why that took as long as it did – she would have befriended him much earlier otherwise. Now they were the best of friends. Then again, his suspicious mind created the paranoia that they were more than just friends.

He nearly retched – there was no way she would settle for somebody as low as Jamie. Except, she might have.

To quieten his mind, he decided to think of the murder. He reviewed the CCTV. Outside the house, all the tape revealed was that a figure in a black jacket crept in through the lawn and broken in with some shaft. Ten minutes later, the figure vanishes whence it came. The high street reveals that the reverend, Simpson and Cripps had walked down within thirty minutes before the killing. Mrs. Mortimer and Mason did their licentious activities from an hour before the entry to half an hour after. Simpson and Cripps reappeared on the high street twenty minutes after the killing. It occurred then to Hardy that there could have been teamwork involved. Simpson and Cripps were together for too long, before and after the crime and Hayes may have played a hand.

He checked the evidence once more. Everything lined up with this theory except that the reverend and Cripps did not mention each other. Maybe the reverend was not lying? There were two things to be done, Hardy realized, jumping with the energy of purpose: the trio had to be interviewed and the boat had to be searched.

He assigned the trio to each person: he allocated himself Simpson, gave Jamie the reverend and let Alice speak to Cripps. He would have to be discreet about Cripps, Jamie would take offence that his brother was still a suspect and Alice would probably side with him.

Hardy sent out his respective texts and walked down to the newsagents, hoping that his subordinates would do their work.

Simpson was not busy, as Hardy had hoped.

"How may I help?" The store owner asked.

"I just wanted to ask why you met the reverend and Cripps, just to make sure."

"When?"

"You know – the night of the murder."

"You see that was a month ago and I already told you, I went on my boat."

"With Cripps?"

"He was bored and wanted to come along."

"Why him?"

"I don't remember and unlike you, I don't pry, so I doubt I ever knew."

"Thank you."

Alice received the text soon after Jamie received his. Jamie sighed, rolled off the bed and grunted, "the stupid Hitler."

"Hey, he keeps your spot warm at night."

"He's still a twat. Wants me to speak to the reverend. Ask him what he and Simpson did."

"Chatted, they both said it!"

"I know!"

Alice read her text. "He wants me to talk to your brother."

"Tell him to piss off."

"Or, I talk to him quickly – he's probably innocent and it'll leave Alec doubting all this – and then we get back where we left off?"

"At mine?"

"Sure. There you can call him whatever you want."

"I do anyway."

"Not to his face."

"I'll drop you off at my brother's?"

"Thank you." Alice kissed him.

The drive was quiet and Alice could not quite remember a better one since a while. Jamie was companionable. Maybe their previous interactions had to do with her feelings, but she did not care – she felt renewed somehow.

She talked to Cripps briefly and reported back that he gave the same story as Simpson.

Jamie did the same with the reverend whose story did not change. He quickly drove back to his brother's store.

"Alec's away, so we'll have a ton of time." Alice said.

"I know!" Jamie was excited, acting like a dog wagging its tail because he would be wagging something else soon.

Alec did not know that his detective sergeants were together. He guessed that that was a possibility but did not deign to be jealous of Jamie. Instead, he drove down to Newcastle with a camera, recorder and a few evidence bags.

He got to the boat soon enough and was quickly allowed to search the small craft. He got access to everything through the keys Simpson entrusted the guards with. He began a thorough search, measuring the outside hull and the inside wall to try to find any hidden compartments. The cabin on top and the deck were quickly cleared of any suspicion – both had minimal storage and nothing was suspicious. With that, he entered the hull – a one level compartment with a small bed and kitchenette. Under the bed were a few bare drawers and the boat really did look like it seemed: a vacation getaway stowed during the working year.

Hardy sighed: another dead end. He walked around the little room and began to exit when he tripped on a small protrusion in the boat's floor. He found a small latch. He pulled it and the wooden panelling creaked open. The two square foot hole revealed a safe. Breaking the safe held a lot of potential: for success and failure. He would have to check the next day with a safe-breaker.

With that Hardy, drove back, satisfied partially by the hope of another clue.

He returned to the average house – a bored Alice and energetic Jenna. He told Alice of his find and received the tired shrug he expected.

White had had a horrid month. After the best thing to happen to her – her coverage of the case – life snatched hope away. The case went cold and was now as buried as some of the other dead in Newcastle. Karen felt that she had failed in her holy task: the country, despite all her efforts, ceased to care. Nothing could kindle that flame anymore and Karen lost her opportunity to prove herself worthy of the reporter's duty.

The Gazette did not receive her as the heroine she was. Instead of a significant boost to her career, all she got was a bonus.

Defeated, she had returned to Newcastle two weeks before the funding cut and felt further defeated upon hearing of it. Maybe the police were stupid – she did her best. She kept an eye out for the case in case something did happen but could not devote her time as she did before.

Cate and Kyle Mortimer were also suffering. Their depression was being treated with the best of the NHS. This took up most of their time, meaning that neither could take up their job nor do anything other than cry and grow further apart. Kyle was rational. He realized what he needed to do to get back to an acceptable life. In her attachment, Cate did not agree with the premise that any life was acceptable after the dead of the children. Quietly, as the lens of the media shifted away from them, the couple broke apart. It was the fizzling of a broken bond, not the nuclear explosion of a strong one.

The town had ceased to care as life drifted quickly to the sleepy normal they were used to. The country happily ignored Sandbrook and Sandbrook happily ignored the country.

Amidst this calm, Hardy hoped to stir up new information as he drove to Newcastle with a team to break Simpson's safe. Neither of his subordinates accompanied him – he began to wonder why, but ceased to care.

They reached the boat and opened the secret hatch. The safe was quickly opened revealing plastic bags full of a crystalline white power. The agents frowned and many sighed, let down by the behaviour of their local newsagent.

The lab analysis took half an hour and for the first time, the monitor detected cocaine. Frank Simpson possessed three kilos of cocaine – enough to make up for six years' worth of running the store. Furthermore, the bags were labelled with a name, a surprising, saddening name: Rev. Harvey Hayes.

Alec took photos of the bags and quickly walked to the church. He practically pushed the reverend onto one of the pews and threw a photo in his lap.

The startled, shaken reverend asked "what is the meaning of-" and stopped short as he realized the import and meaning of the photos he was rudely presented.

"You lied!" Hardy exclaimed.

"Yes." The reverend thought that this would eventually happen, but he hoped that Simpson was not dragged down with his hopeless addiction. In this hope he had failed.

"Explain this!"

"I would have been convicted, I'm sure as another crime was my alibi."

"There are actually no charges on you. Next time, don't lie."

Hardy walked out and reached the newsagents. He followed his rude procedure with Simpson, pinning him against the counter instead of a pew.

Simpson saw the photos and sighed, offering Harvey's explanation.

"And Cripps?" Hardy asked.

"He knows about the drugs, but doesn't use."

"I see." With that, Hardy drove to talk to Cripps.

The conversation with Cripps verified this, leading Hardy to lose all his assurance. All that was added was the fact that drugs were involved in the trio.

Alec reached the office where Alice enthusiastically took the car away. Alec sighed and resigned himself to his work.

He wrote another report and decided to file another request for funding. Neither would be fulfilling, he knew, but moping was not practical either. Somehow, he dragged his heels in his work, stretching his sense of purpose to five in the evening.

He began to walk home after this, wondering what Alice had been up to in the intervening time – the last six hours.

On the street a car pulled up next to him. He recognized Ms. Werner driving. She rolled down a window of the small grey Honda civic and offered a ride. Hardy decided against declining.

His journey home was cut short as Werner conversed with him briefly. "Jenna's a great kid."

"I know."

Werner smirked. "She took Annie's death quite well."

"Faith in heaven did that."

"I guess that's where it comes from."

"It's quite useful."

"False assurance?"

"Don't you use it?"

"Not as much as you." Hardy checked to see if there was any venom in that. "Loosen up! Gosh, you really shouldn't worry about what we think. We don't know how the case worked."

"The papers gave you too good an idea."

"I don't trust them."

"They still knew too much."

"Your problem really, I'm just the sad school teacher." Werner sighed, pulling to the curb in front of the Hardy household.

Alec began to step out. Next to the passenger seat of the car, a small piece of wood caught his eye. He pulled at it, revealing a dream-catcher. "Ms. Werner, do you know what this is?"

"No." She looked at it and her face turned aghast. "Is that the pendant you guys were looking for?"

"Yes." Hardy sighed. "I believe you will have to come in to the office."


	7. Chapter 7

Jim Mason had a terrible time over the past fortnight. His fling with Cate became, to his dismay, just a one night affair.

As a past suspect, business died down. People did not want a potential murderer in their house. He thought of it as quite reasonable except that it led to his losses over February.

In addition, a psychic insisted that Jim could help the case. Jim did not know what the person was talking about and he doubted the person knew either. Then came the morning of the third of March. The psychic seemed to know something. The thin old man pecked incessantly at Mason's door. Mason gave him a "piss off." The psychic did not give up. Before Mason knew it, the man was in the backyard.

Mason opened the door and saw the psychic enter his shed. Mason ran in to ensure that he did not incur any more losses.

The psychic lost the little sanity he had. He was holding a shaft, the kind of shaft used to open jammed doors. "You used this, didn't you?" The psychic yelled. "You did, right? Just opened this and killed them, I see."

Mason was speechless.

"The call you said you were on was a fake, right?"

"Take it to the police, you twat! See what they have to say! I did not do this!" At least the police knew the truth.

"You know what? I will!" The psychic ran with the shaft to the police station. Jim hoped they would not call him in for questioning.

The psychic reached the station quickly and almost threw the shaft at one of the officers. Quickly, Hardy came down to personally thank the man. "Do I get paid?" The man asked.

"No, we cannot pay you, I'm afraid."

"I'll talk to the media."

"We can't stop you."

"Fine. See what I say about you, Hardy."

"I will." Hardy stiffly turned thanking the man once more. Hardy reached his office and sighed. Mason was a useless link either way – they had CCTV evidence of his activities the night of the murder and it did not really matter. At least it eliminated one missing link and gave them a chance to see more footage of the culprit.

The police had stored the footage from all over town the night of the killing as a precaution. That paid off as Hardy saw the killer get his break-in device. Unfortunately, the footage offered no other clues about the killer. So far, Werner was the only suspect.

She declared leave at the school, awaiting the police team which would come and investigate. She knew that she had no alibi for the night of the killing – she was at home alone. Yet, she hoped she would be let off the hook because the car was not hers. She bought it the morning after from Cripps. Did that sleazy bastard try to frame her? It was possible. There was no way anybody else could have put the evidence there without breaking her car in some way.

The police came a little late – five past nine instead of on the hour. Hardy apologized, admitting to having had to attend to another matter. The car was quickly searched and the pendant found once more. The team left to run the fingerprints within five minutes.

Werner entered her house and emerged in two minutes declaring: "I'm innocent, I swear, see I didn't have this car before after the crime." She handed Hardy the papers with the date of the car's purchase marked as the Friday after the killing.

"It was Cripps' then, right?"

"Yes."

"I'll see to it." Hardy thumbed his phone asking Alice to bring the evidence to the office. "Wait here for DS Hardy to get the evidence."

Alec drove to the car dealership using a police car. He pulled up and walked in quickly, throwing the picture of the pendant down onto Cripps' desk. "Can you please tell me how this got into one of the cars in your showroom?"

"What showroom?"

Hardy sighed. "How did it get into one of your cars?"

"The owner-"

"While you owned it!"

"You got me!" Cripps sarcastically said. "Was it in one of my cars?"

"Yes. While you were in the dealership."

"What if the owner put it in afterwards?"

"We are checking that possibility."

"But you still came here?"

"To ask again and hope you tell me the truth: did you kill Jane and Annie Mortimer?"

"No!" Hardy scanned for guilt but found none.

"That's all I wanted." Hardy drove off.

Alice pulled into Werner's driveway. She picked up the pendant and drove off quickly thanking Werner for her patient cooperation. She had agreed to meet Cripps at the bar and decided that a quick drink would do no harm.

She reached to find Cripps in his normal state. They talked and planned ahead: she would go to drop the evidence off and hopefully close the stupid case.

Halfway through their pints (conversation made them drink at a similar rate), Cripps was called by his brother.

"Jamie?" An uncharacteristically anxious voice came through the line.

"Yeah?"

"Can you go somewhere private?"

"Sure. What is it?"

"You there?" Jamie walked to the bathroom, leaving Alice wondering exactly how he would pee with the phone in his hand.

"I killed them-" Rob was too nervous to say the sentence quickly.

"You did the-" Jamie was too shocked to articulate the full thought.

"I'm sorry, I-"

"Why?"

"They threatened me."

"Who?"

"Simpson's gang."

"They told you to kill two little girls and you did?"

"They would have killed us both, Jamie!"

"But-"

"I had to, I couldn't-"

"You could have come to the police."

"No! They would have tortured us both."

"Not with police protection."

"They would have been on us before the police got near us."

"But, why?"

"I did bad things with their-"

"I don't want to know. I already would have to arrest you."

"Please don't!"

"You killed to kids as they slept!"

"To save us both!" Both sides paused. Rob continued the conversation: "I need you to get rid of the pendant."

"What?"

"The pendant."

"You're asking me to destroy evidence?"

"Yes."

"You know I can't-"

"I killed them for you, now at least save me."

"Bullshit!"

"You were their main threat, brother."

"Make me an offer I can't resist."

"The car business?"

"And you pissing off to another town."

"Deal." Rob sighed. "I'm sorry it had to be this way."

"If you and I were, I would arrest you and you would plead guilty."

Jamie snuck out to the back parking lot and found Alice's car. He reasoned that it would be better if Alice did not know that the culprit was his brother. He picked up a rock and smashed the car's window. The alarm instantly went off and Jamie quickly pocketed the evidence bag. As the bar crowd rushed out, Jamie looked around as if he had run there first.

"What happened?" Alice called.

"There were some kids who broke in."

"What did they do?"

"I don't know."

Alice peered into the car. "They took the evidence bag!" She shrieked. She cursed herself for taking the drink. Depressed, she texted Cripps' story to Hardy.

Hardy drove to the bar quickly and picked up his subordinates. "You see what your laziness does!" He yelled. "We had it solved!"

"You knew who it was?" Jamie asked.

"Cripps, right?" Alice questioned. Jamie looked at her, noticing that she did not seem fazed and his motive was flawed.

"Robert Cripps." Hardy sighed. "But thanks to you morons, we can't press charges."

"Why?"

"We don't have a single piece of evidence, that's why!"

"We-"

"You two lost it!"

"Sorry." Alice said, injecting venom in her words, hoping to stop her crazy husband.

Hardy reached the office and walked in without another word during the short drive. The fingerprint lab team came in and the leader declared that Rob Cripps was the last person to touch the pendant.

"I lost it." Hardy quietly said.

The team frowned as one.

"I stopped to get a drink and some people robbed my car."

There were groans in the fingerprinting team.

"Sorry. We cannot press charges."

"Will you tell the media?"

"I will have to."

Alec resigned to his office and sighed, wishing he had something more potent than coffee to drink. Alice walked in quickly, slamming the door behind her. "Are you going to do this?"

"What?"

"Take the blame like the valiant knight and hope to get me?"

"Yes."

"Well, you've lost me."

"I know, but I hope that it helps you."

"Get out of my life!"

"Divorce?"

"And maybe your death."

"Did you have that type of awakening when Jamie fucked you?"

"It's better than when you did." Hardy was offended by tried to hide it.

"You could be nicer about this, you know. Take some blame and leave."

"Blame?"

"You could have told me we were divorcing and we could have quietly divorced."

"You could have left me to live my life not get my parents to make me marry you!"

"I was wrong. I thought I had to help you by being there. I thought you wanted me and loved me."

"I never did."

"Do you love Jamie?"

"Does it matter?"

"If you don't want me to shove him under a bus, yes."

"Fine, I love him. Shove yourself under the bus!"

"Alright, I will. I already have."

"And leave me."

"What about Jenna?"

"She's mine."

"I want to be able to talk to her."

"Fine, but don't involve me or try to get me back or anything."

"We'll work it out."

"Good." Hardy sighed as Alice left. He wished she left the same way he did but he knew that his love was unrequited. He hoped that Jamie would treat her well. That was all he could hope for – a good treatment for Alice and Jenna, unfortunately not from him.

Karen White had a boring day. As usual, nothing compared to her old story from Sandbrook. All she was working on now was the equivalent of a lost dog. Her career and sacred duty were both not leading anywhere and she knew that she would not be able to feel fulfilment any time soon. That changed when she heard that the Sandbrook police department were going to release data on the case. There were new eventualities and there was a sense of progress – hopefully closure.

Alec wrote the speech as he dealt with the raw emotions of his divorce. He wrote to keep the thoughts of Alice and the future away. He lost her and there was nothing he could do. Furthermore, the press demanded more and he had to give them that. While he wrote, he knew that Jamie would be cementing the state of affairs between himself and Alice.

Alec looked into Jamie's story: that the car was robbed by a mob of kids. There were no wannabe vandals in Sandbrook as far as Alec knew and so he wondered. He saw the CCTV footage of the bar's back parking lot. Jamie had the pendant, he found. He had had to stop his work and face the raw emotion. Alice would be with that kind of a criminal and maybe Jenna would get caught up as well. Yet Alice loved him. Maybe he would have to talk to Jamie to decide. If he was quick enough, he would also be able to get the press release done when he got back. He called Jamie to meet him incognito.

They met at Rob's dealership. "I know you have the pendant, Cripps." Alec began.

"What?"

"The dream-catcher. I saw that you stole it on CCTV."

"You what?"

"I checked the CCTV – just to know the story I would have to weave to keep it off you two. You stole it. Why?"

"Rob told me to. He gave me the store and that way I thought Alice wouldn't know about Rob."

"So you destroyed the case?"

Jamie laughed. "Rob's gone, Hardy, the case is already done for. All I want out of this is Alice."

"I'll tell her you stole it. Show her the footage, then what?"

"Then fuck you."

"Give me a reason not to tell her."

"Give me a reason to incriminate my brother."

"It's your job."

"I'll make it up. I promise." Jamie knew that he had to do something. "I'll figure something out, I swear."

"By tomorrow."

"First thing in the morning."

"What time?"

"Nine." Jamie was quite lazy.

"Or, find the pendant."

"What?"

"Magically pull it out of thin air!"

"I-" Jamie sighed. "I burned it."

"You idiot!" Alec resigned himself to studying the case and preparing the relevant press release. He was ready to kill Jamie but knew that that would only anger Alice further.

The release was short and hopefully would be wasted on an empty room. He realized that his hopes were false as the room was decently crowded. In was not full or leaking as he had seen it once, but was populated handsomely by some of the townsfolk and two people of the press.

One of the reporters was Karen White, who came brimming with hope. The other agent was somebody even more local and less known.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," Hardy began, "I am sorry to inform you that the case of the murder of Annie and Jane Mortimer is going cold. Because of the lack of funds and the age of the case, we must leave it as is. That said, however, we may bring another close as we are reviewing a suspect after the finding of the pendant. We shall not reveal any further information as we shall respect the suspect's privacy from the media. We may be able to press charges, but we need more concrete evidence as the elusive pendant was once more lost." There was an air of dismay as Hardy transitioned from hope to hell. "My car was broken into as I stopped for a drink to prematurely celebrate and there the evidence was robbed. I apologize profusely to the family and hope that the evidence would be found to facilitate the case."

"Do you still intend to press charges?" White asked.

"We will try."

"But there will be no allegation without the evidence?"

"We will leave that to the judges." White took that as a 'yes.' She wondered how something so stupid, something as insignificant, could let a murderer roam free.

"And ladies and gentlemen, we will have more to present to the court as I have found a witness!" Jamie yelled, walking across the room and climbing onto the pulpit. Hardy frowned as Jamie winked. "We will leave the identity of this person a secret for the sake of court procedures, but you will all know in due time." Jamie grinned once more and whispered to Hardy: "told you I'd find something."

"Tell me later." Hardy quietly said, admitting defeat for Alice's sake.

The night was one of the worst – Alec dealt with Alice's new treatment of him and realized that he was wrong to marry her and force her into a life with him. In addition, he dealt with the reality of a couch as a bed. He was ready for anything by the time he woke up because anything would be better than the previous night.

In the morning, Hardy called Cripps and asked about the witness. The call revealed that the witness was a neighbour who had not been able to sleep and was not seen leaving the house on the fateful night.

Casually, the Hardy family broke and Alice took on her maiden name – Keys, though she planned to change it to Cripps in the near future.

Alec left the divorce attorney's in a daze. The place was small, an alcove of miserable relationships in Newcastle. He drove unconscious of the world or his thoughts. Both seemed as grey as each other. He was tired of everything. It felt as if a part of him was cut out and that that part would never grow back or heal. There was a gap which he knew the world or future could not fill. He decided against reacting as he saw that the court case would be more important.

The court would meet on the next Monday to see the evidence and by then Alice, Jenna and Jamie had planned to leave. Alec was the only person in the police to stay on the case the whole time. So far, he had taken the blame for the loss of the pendant. He really should have predicted the conflict of interests and thrown both the retarded lovebirds off the case. He should have known, foreseen, predicted. He blamed himself. Everything bad in his life was his fault. The divorce, the case, Jenna's sordid upbringing and his stress about it all as well.

He took a breath, noting its surprising brevity. He took another one, more desperate for air. His vision began to blur and the world whirled. He braked and swerved and heard a screech.

The car turned and hit a hedge, the thicket absorbing the high momentum before breaking and letting the car edge through. Hardy opened his door and struggled for the seatbelt, wondering what would happen if he never escaped the car. Would he die of his anomaly? Was it a heart attack? He was surely too young.

He reached out one last time, hearing the belt click off him. It slid slowly as he tried to step out, staggering on wobbly feet. The world spun before turning perpendicular to its normal slant. Hardy hit the ground hard, breathing in the grass as he gasped for breath.

He clawed forward a last time before the grey turned black and he wondered if he could ever come back.


	8. Chapter 8

The room was brown. A light brown, almost orange where the sun lit it. And it was a room. Hardy quickly rolled up, off his side. The ceiling was white, just like the frames of the room. On his right arm, Hardy felt a wire and some straps. He was in a hospital. He was not dead! Unless hell played cruel tricks. He panned his head around seeing calmly active instruments to his right and a window to his left. He gingerly looked up to note his white overalls and small blanket. On a chair across the room, Ms. Werner sat, reading quietly.

"Morning." She said, brightly emerging from her book.

"Is it?"

"What?"

"Is it morning?"

"No, it's three in the afternoon"

"I see." He shuffled. "Date?"

"Monday the ninth of March."

That date struck a chord with Hardy as he shuffled up.

"The court has postponed for you."

"I see." He thought about his state for a short while. "Why are you here?"

"You'd have preferred Alice?"

"No, not now."

"Sorry about that, I…" Werner had her personal reasons for her attendance, but did not want the literally heart-broken man to know. "I found your car and called you in."

"Thank you."

"I'll get a doctor." Werner hoped she was not blushing.

"Thank you."

"I'll be off then."

"Come by for tea or something, my thanks." Now that he did not think that another woman in his life would create awkwardness, befriending Susan seemed to be a great prospect.

The doctor entered the room soon after. "Mr. Hardy," came his grating voice, "it is my misfortune to inform you of your heart arrhythmia."

"Arrhythmia?"

"Your heart beat is irregular and can cause the cardiac arrest you just faced."

"How?"

"Your stress level seems to have caused it."

"I see."

"With that, you are discharged with a prescription you may get at our counter." The doctor left a small yellow sheet of paper on Hardy's temporary bedside table.

Hardy strode out of the hospital, quickly picking up his prescription. Outside, he found Werner about to drive off. "Seeing as you've seen the state of my car, I was wondering if I could have a ride." He asked.

"Sure."

With that, Hardy found himself deeper in Werner's debt. "Sorry about the pendant thing."

"It's not your fault. I wish I found it earlier."

"It would have helped so much." Hardy looked around outside the car as the passing countryside. "I'm touched that you came all the way to see me."

"It's quite alright. The doctor wanted somebody to care for you and I was the only person I knew who could do anything."

"Really?"

"In town, at least." Susan sighed. "You know, they're after your blood for the pendant."

"Stupid shit."

"Really. The papers were all over you – they talked about your past, asked how you came to be here. They wondered about you abusing Alice and Jenna. They think you're some monster."

"You don't?"

"Of course not – you definitely did not abuse Jenna, I've never been married so I can't tell about the divorce and heaven knows the motley crap a cop has to go through."

"Motley crap."

"I tell you. You better find a way to hide."

"I'm needed at court."

"There is no court."

"I thought you said that it was postponed."

"Yes, but the witness vanished with Jamie. He just buggered off and the witness never came up."

"It was a neighbour, he said."

"The new DS's asked everybody. Nobody knows who Jamie was on about."

"Fuck!" Hardy looked around, startled by his own outburst. "Sorry I-"

"It's understandable."

"The case is done for now."

"I guess." Taking advantage of a red light, Susan looked at Alec. "You know who did it right?"

"Can't tell you."

"I'm happy if you're sure."

"Thank you. I wish the court were."

"You'd probably get the wishing the entire town was."

"That too, but it'd come with the court's joy."

"True."

Susan dropped Alec off at his residence – the hotel on the high street. Hardy lounged on his couch for a half hour, wondering what to do with himself. He finally realized that he had little to live for. He provided small alimony for Jenna's support but Alice insisted that it would be a very small sum – she wanted absolute detachment. Other than that, he had no motive to do anything at all. In fact, the sooner he died the less pain there would be in his life.

Next thing Alec was aware of, it was morning. He probably fell asleep and conjectured that it was the next day. The calendar quickly proved him right as he rummaged for a breakfast, scrapping together the bread and butter he took from the divorce – almost everything he got out of the past nine years.

Alec reached the court which was scheduled for the day. He glanced a headline forecasting the dismal state of affairs. The bus ride – since he could not replace his car – was short and bitter. The people gave him a very pointed, disgusted look and nobody approached him. He was contaminated with the hatred of the public and thus everybody he saw hated him from afar.

At the very least, the legal employees – lawyers, judges and similar magistrates – were not unkind (to have reached that level of hell, Hardy presumed, he would have to be the murderer).

The courtroom, the classical pink walled, wooden banister lined, wood floored and pew filled hall of justice, was full of the media and the lucky minorities of the public. Hardy's face was being telecast all around the nation and absences from work were being recorded as people stopped their lives to care about somebody else's. For the first time in two weeks, Cate and Kyle were under the same roof and not at war.

The gabble silenced the quiet hum of chatter as the judge's erudite voice preached the courtroom. "We are assembled today to hear the case of Sandbrook police vs. Robert Cripps. In absentia of the defendant, we have provided Mr. Cripps with a stand in lawyer. The police are represented here in full. We must first decide whether there is enough evidence present to pass the allegation to the defendant. Should that fail, the case shall be laid to rest until sufficient evidence be gathered." This pretty much ended the case for Hardy. "The allegation would present that the following as facts: on the night of Thursday February the sixth of this year, the defendant was seen using Mr. Mason's shaft to break in to the Mortimer household. Upon this forced entry, defendant is alleged to have used a kitchen knife from the Mortimer kitchen to kill Jane and Annie Mortimer." The judge shuffled papers, turning to the next sheet. "Does the allegation concur with this recitation of the facts?" The allegation all nodded. "To prove this story, we have various evidence. Firstly, we have the dead bodies to verify that Jane and Annie were in fact killed. Second, we have the knife that was used in this heinous act. Third we have the CCTV camera footage of the forced entry. Finally, we also have the shaft used in the crime. These are all satisfactorily verified and in the possession of the legal system, for recordings of each we may refer to the brief, page 7 and 8. Does the allegation demand to present further evidence in their possession, verifiably from the scene of the crime?"

"The allegation does not." There were multiple shutter clicks, to the extent that the judge paused to re-focus his eyes.

"Assembled here on the tenth of March, we must rest the case due to the lack of incriminating evidence. It stands to reason that the perpetrator may not be Mr. Cripps as there is no direct evidence of his partaking in the action." The gabble fell as did Cate and Kyle's hearts and the number of people in the courtroom. Shutters clicked again with renewed fury as the judge and magistrates left. Hardy prepared himself and exited as quickly as he could, riding a bus with much of the media. The media threw questions at him, each pushing towards his resignation more than the last. For his safety, he would have to leave Sandbrook.

He locked the press out of his room, pretending to the best of his ability that they did not exist. He packed quickly and exited, followed by the press as he checked out. They clung to him as a shadow as he walked to the office and signed up for a transfer. He planned on becoming a trainer for a short while before seeing what the future could hold. As he ignored the press, the transfer was accepted and Hardy left for London.

The press drifted off as he boarded the train and slept, wondering what would happen.

He reached Euston station with a few messages from his new boss. The new superintendent had texted him two things: his Scotland Yard provided lodging in the city centre and the existence of a report on his failure written by the Sandbrook office.

Karen White left the court ashamed of her country. It was the bad British police which allowed Robert Cripps to slip away. She believed strongly that it was all Hardy's doing: the loss of the pendant, the inefficiency and the dud witness. She did not know what to do about it other than her job: inform the entire nation. Over the week, she had already written on Hardy's broken life and heart. She wrote on how the man was probably unfit for duty and too stubborn to listen to anybody about it. She wrote on his hubris and how that caused everything and then how he desperately covered everything up with the fake witness. It was all she could do to hope that Hardy did not destroy another town's hope.

Her story circulated and she quickly received a call on the drive home. She was informed that the Daily Herald wanted her as a reporter. It was onwards and upwards. As morbid and unfortunate as it was, she was moving up thanks to the murder of Jane and Annie Mortimer.

In London, Hardy sat and reminisced wondering how he would ever recover from his failure. The report was correct – he should have done so much more: talked to the neighbours, helped the Mortimer survivors and asked Simpson about Cripps. Maybe a link would have provided evidence to lock up Robert Cripps.

He sighed and picked up his phone, holding it before dialling the third thing he got from his marriage. The line rang before going to voicemail. "Hey Jenna. Are you there? Did mum tell you not to pick up? I just called to tell you I'm sorry about the last week and that I hope you're fine. How are you? Please call when you can. This is dad, signing off. Goodbye Jenna."

_(A/N: Hi! I hope you guys enjoyed this. Writing was an absolute joy!_

_A few things on this fic and my publication in general._

_1) Did you find the fic slow or repetitive? I hope it was neither and the cliffhangers had their intended effect._

_2) Was the POV obvious at most (if not all) times in the story? I hope it was as I did not make any of it explicit (and I don't believe in doing so, but it may have gotten confusing)._

_3) Are there any massive, glaring inaccuracies or flaws? I hope not, but if you spot one, please tell me._

_On my publication: I publish everything at once which is why all has been quiet. It is also why this is the only author's note._

_I hope you enjoyed this, my first contribution to Broadchurch's fandom._

_Have fun!)_


End file.
